Endless Night
by Alexander of Gryffindor
Summary: Our heroine gets terrible news that brings her closer to Harry.


**Disclaimer:** All characters and settings herein are creations of J.K. Rowling and are under copyright to her and her various assigns. The lyrics to _Endless Night_ are by Julie Taymour and are under copyright, presumably to Disney, for whose Broadway musical _The Lion King_ they were written. This fic was inspired by, but does not strictly conform to, an old FictionAlley challenge. The author covenants that hereinafter he will not think like a lawyer.

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_Where has the starlight gone?  
Dark is the day.  
_

I never really worried about them. Why would Voldemort go after them? If I'd wanted to be safe, I would have stayed with them. Their hygienic world looked as cold as the star-sparkling stainless steel of their instruments—and it wasn't as exciting as the world I chose—but it was safe. At least I always thought so. That was why I was glad to get away from it—and that was why I was always glad it was there. I could never be completely insecure. I could always go home.

_Home is an empty dream  
Lost to the night.  
Father, I feel so alone.  
_

Now I don't know who has it worse—Harry or I. He never got to know his father. I did know mine.

I did.

It was early in the morning when Professor McGonagall climbed the stairs to the Gryffindor sixth-year girls' room. She must have cast a spell on the stairs to let Harry and Ron come up with her.

"Miss Granger, this is going to come as a terrible shock."

I remember the moment with abnormal clarity, and I suppose I always will. Ron looked at Professor McGonagall, quite puzzled. Harry looked at her as if he were facing a dementor; he had his hand on my arm before she could say another word. I knew what Professor McGonagall was there to say by the way Harry held my arm. And yet I know she hadn't told him. She sounded choked.

"Miss Granger, there—there was an attack. It appears one of the Death Eaters pretended to be a patient. He—Your father is dead, Miss Granger, and your mother is in St. Mungo's."

Strangely, that's where my memory leaves off. Even with Harry's warning, my brain just stopped recording when Professor McGonagall pronounced those words. I can't tell you whether I started to cry, or snatched for my wand, or rolled to Harry—I can't tell you what Harry did, or what Ron did—I can't tell you when Professor McGonagall left, or whether I went with her.

How do you think when the one person who was always there is suddenly gone?

Sometime later that day, they offered to take me, with or without Harry or Ron, to St. Mungo's. I said no. Harry urged me to go, but I refused. I wanted to see my father again, and for that I needed his help—his and his father's.

_I'm trying to hold on  
Just waiting to hear your voice  
One word, just a word will do  
To end this nightmare  
_

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." I took the map and put on the invisibility cloak. Harry didn't ask whether he should come with me, though I could see he wanted to. I went to the Room of Requirement and entered it. I knew what I would find there. I knew Professor Dumbledore wouldn't be pleased—but I knew he would understand if I used it, just this once.

As I stood in a featureless, wall-less room that seemed too small for more than one person, I looked into my father's gentle face one last time. I heard his loving, proud voice—the voice that said the only thing he knew about witches was that his daughter was going to be a great one—speak my name. I felt his strong arms enfold me. I knew the face was only a reflection in the Mirror of Erised. I knew the voice was only a memory. I knew the arms were only my own. But I could not let go.

Eventually, of course, I knew I had to leave. It should have been hard to turn away from the mirror, knowing I would never go back to it, but by then I felt as if my emotional powers were exhausted and there was nothing left to hold me in a space furnished only with a mirror. I draped the cloak over me. I didn't bother to open the map.

As soon as the door opened, I was face-to-face with Harry. I started to run away, but he stopped me. He took my hand—I almost didn't want to understand how he found it in an instant under the cloak—and because I didn't want to talk about what I was going through, I challenged him: "What are you doing here—I have the map, I have the cloak—what about Filch? How long have you been here?"

Those deep green eyes looked deeply into mine, and I felt something between a sob and a laugh catch in my throat. I threw the cloak over Harry. I cried the tears I didn't think I had left. I let him help me back to Gryffindor Tower. But every time my eyes cracked open, they met nothing except the firm but wet eyes of my best friend—the eyes even his father's invisibility cloak couldn't keep from finding mine.

_I know that the night must end  
And that the sun will rise  
And that the sun will rise.  
I know that the clouds must clear  
And that the sun will shine  
And that the sun will shine.  
I know._


End file.
